"Si.
You good hombre, si," he gasped.
Sundown frowned. "Now, don't you take any idea like that along to
glory with you. Sinker--what you shot--was me friend. I ought to kill
you like a snake. But God A'mighty took the job off me hands. I
reckon that makes me square with--with Sinker--and Him."
Again Sundown brought water to the herder. Gently he raised his head
and held the cup to his lips. Chance stood in the middle of the room
strangely subdued, yet he watched each movement of his master with
alert eyes. The moonlight faded from the window and the fire died
down. The air became chill as the faint light of dawn crept in to
emphasize the ghastly picture--the barren, rough-boarded room, the
rusted stove, the towering figure of Sundown, impassively waiting; and
the shattered, shrunken figure of the Mexican, hopeless and helpless,
as the morning mesas welcomed the golden glow of dawn and a new day.
The herder, despite his apparent torpor, was the first to hear the
faint thud of hoofs in the loose sand of the roadway. He grew
instantly alert, raising himself on his elbow and gazing with fear-wide
eyes toward the south.
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